


Roman Holiday

by visi



Category: A3! (Anime), A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Happy Ending, Roman Holiday AU, Strangers to Lovers, angst but it's barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/visi/pseuds/visi
Summary: a runaway princess. a collection of photographs. and a choice between a new life and a new love.
Relationships: Fushimi Omi/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Roman Holiday

* * *

_I don't know how to say goodbye. I can't think of any words._

* * *

**THE MANKAI TIMES**  
— _Dated December 21st, XXXX. Price: One Bronze Coin._

_**YOUNGEST PRINCESS OF THE KINGDOM OF MANKAI STILL MISSING** _   
_A reward of 100 gold medallions has been issued by the Mankai Royal Palace for anyone who can give legitimate information as to the youngest princess of the Mankai Kingdom's whereabouts. Princess (Y/N) (L/N) has been missing for approximately two days, having fled the palace on the night of December 19th. Several rumors have circulated through the country about the reason for her disappearance, the most likely being her reluctance to be engaged to Duke Furuichi Sakyo, a man who to this day, the princess has never met._

_Both the King and Queen have expressed their concern for the young princess, as Princess (Y/N) rarely makes public appearances or ventures beyond the palace walls. Princess (Y/N) has (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, and is about (height) tall. Any information should be reported to the Royal Guards immediately._

Omi closes the newspaper and shakes his head, handing the paper back to his friend, Taichi Nanao. "Not all women with (h/c) hair happen to be the missing princess, Taichi." 

"But the reward is 100 gold medallions," Taichi says, jabbing his finger back at the article. "What if she actually is the princess? This could be your chance to finally pay off your debt and escape this place."

"But if she isn't the princess, we could be accused of fraud." Omi sighs, raking a hand back through his hair. "The only thing we know about her is that she's a woman who passed out on a bench in the park yesterday due of exhaustion. We shouldn't jump to conclusions just because the timeline matches up and she resembles a vague description in the newspaper."

His words finally seem to reach Taichi, who sets the newspaper down at last. "Sometimes I hate how level-headed you are."

Omi pats Taichi's shoulder comfortingly. "Don't worry, I only need to work a few more years before the debt is paid off. Keep your head up, okay?"

"I should be telling you that," Taichi huffs. "Do you have to head to the bakery now?"

"Yeah, but I'll probably stop by my apartment first to see if the woman's woken up yet. Go home and stay out of trouble, understand?"

"When do I ever get in trouble?" Taichi asks with a cheeky smile before they wave their goodbyes to each other.

Omi wraps his coat tightly around him as he begins the walk back to his apartment. His hands are shoved protectively into the coat pockets, since he'd accidentally misplaced his only pair of gloves a few weeks ago and hadn't saved up enough to buy new ones. Above him, the sky is a melancholy gray, made only drearier by the plumes of factory smoke shooting up from every direction. The cold, bitter air indicates that it's only a matter of time before it starts snowing and with this knowledge in mind, he speeds up his pace. 

Even though his apartment key fits perfectly inside the lock, he has to jiggle it aggressively before the door to his apartment building opens. There's a new crack on one of the apartment stairs and Omi makes a mental note to fix it up before somebody ends up falling because of it. 

He's not sure what to expect when he enters his apartment. Last night, he and Taichi found a woman collapsed on a park bench and fearing that she might catch hypothermia, Omi had offered to carry her back to his place and allow her to stay there for the night. Taking her to the hospital had been out of question since neither of them had the money to foot any potential bills. 

When Omi left to drop some mail off with Taichi this morning, the woman had still been fast asleep. Belatedly, Omi wonders if he should've brought food home in case she'd already woken up. 

"Hello?" Omi calls out as he opens his apartment door. Immediately, the woman sitting on his couch stands up and greets him with a low bow that causes her hair to fall in front of her face.

"Thank you so much for allowing me to stay here last night. I'm truly sorry if I caused you any inconvenience," she says. 

"It was no problem," he reassures her. "Did you sleep well?"

She lifts her head back up and for a moment, Omi finds himself at a loss for words. Even the worry in her expression doesn't detract from how undeniably _pretty_ she is. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, eyes immediately flitting to the side as he tries to regain his bearings. Had she been this pretty last night? Maybe he'd been so occupied with getting her warm that he'd failed to notice it.

"I did," she tells him, clasping her hands together and nodding her head. "Thank you so much for your generosity, Mister...?"

"Omi Fushimi," he supplies. "And can I ask your name?"

"Ah, it's..." There's just a slight pause but she smiles so brightly immediately afterwards that Omi doesn't even spot the hesitation. "Anya." 

"Anya." He tries it out on his tongue. "Is it alright if I ask why you were on the park bench?"

"Oh that." Anya tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and purses her lips, as if she's contemplating what to say. "I don't really have a place to stay right now."

The slight change in her friendly demeanor tells him that he shouldn't pry. "Then if you'd like, you're welcome to stay with me for the time being," Omi offers. Perhaps it's his inherently caring nature, but he doesn't want to think about the dangers that could befall a young woman with no place to stay, especially in this part of town. "The apartment's not much but I can get you some extra blankets and change the bedsheets for you."

"Ah, thank you so much for the offer but I don't want to impose on you," she quickly says, waving her hands in front of her. "I'm already so grateful that you took me in last night."

"It's no worry at all. You already said that you don't have a place to stay, right?"

At this, Anya seems to deflate. "Yes, that's correct. But in return, please allow me to repay this favor somehow. I'm not particularly talented with housework or cooking but I'm very willing to learn."

Repay the favor? Omi wants to tell her that she doesn't need to do anything in return, but one look at her earnest face and he knows that he won't be able to convince her to back down. 

"I'll look into it then," Omi says, a reply that appears to satisfy her judging on how her shoulders relax. He then glances at the clock and suddenly remembers that his shift is about to start soon. "You haven't eaten anything yet, have you?"

"No, not yet." 

He'd suspected just as much. Omi flashes her a gentle smile. "Are you comfortable coming with me then? I need to get to work but I'll be able to get you something to eat there."

"If that's no trouble for you, I'd love that."

"None at all." He opens a closet door and rummages through until he finds a coat with minimal wear and tear. There's a few buttons missing from the top but he reckons it's better than nothing. "Wear this. I know it's not ideal but it'll keep you warm at least."

Omi hands it over to her and she unfolds the coat to examine it fully. For a moment, Omi worries that she'll find the coat to be unsuitable but his concern is dismissed the moment she glances back up at him. "Thank you. _Truly_ , thank you."

An inexplicable fluttering feeling makes its way into Omi's chest, but he swallows it down and nods. "We should get going before the snow starts coming down."

The bakery is only a ten minute walk from his apartment, a fact that he silently thanks the universe for given how cold it is outside. Fortunately, Anya doesn't appeared to be bothered by the weather. She throws the coat hood up over her head and keeps her head low as they walk. Her posture however, is almost unnervingly perfect. What kind of upbringing would she need to have for such a perfect posture? His mind drifts back to his and Taichi's conversation earlier in the morning. Anya can't be the missing princess...right? But then again, perfect posture doesn't necessarily point to royal ancestry. Omi shakes the thought out of his mind. He's clearly reading too much into it. 

Somehow they manage to arrive at the bakery before the first snow falls. Omi holds open the door for Anya and dusts the dirt off his shoes on the entrance mat before stepping inside.

As always, the bakery has a comforting atmosphere that washes over him instantly. The fireplace in the corner keeps the place pleasantly toasty, a welcome contrast from the frigid air outside. Some of the floor tiles are chipped but rather than making the bakery seem old, they give the place a more homely feel. Various aromas waft their way out of the kitchen, a combination of fresh baked bread, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Omi inhales and exhales deeply, allowing the tension to leave his body.

"Wow," Anya whispers, throwing off her hood and examining the place with an almost childlike amazement. "Everything here smells amazing."

"I'm glad you think so." He chuckles, gesturing at one of the open tables. "Take a seat and I'll grab you something to eat."

There are no other customers in the bakery yet, though that isn't unusual with how early in the morning it was. They usually get their greatest influx of customers somewhere around lunch time and lunch is still several hours away. Omi takes off his coat and hangs it up on the rack before entering the back of the bakery where his fellow coworker, Juza Hyodo, greets him with a silent nod. 

"Do we have any finished loaves yet?" Omi asks. Juza points towards a tray of freshly-baked bread loaves atop one of the counters, and Omi gives him a thumbs-up in thanks. After putting on an apron and washing his hands, Omi grabs one of the loaves, sets it on a plate, and brings it out to where Anya is waiting. 

"Here. I'll try to find something more sustaining for dinner but I hope this works for now," Omi says.

"No, this works wonderfully. Thank you so much." Although Omi's positive she hasn't had anything to eat for some time, Anya carefully tears off a section of the bread and bites delicately into it. She then grabs a napkin from the center of the table and dabs away any potential crumbs before turning back towards him with a large grin on her face. "This is delicious."

"Isn't it? It's the bakery's specialty," Omi says, unable to stop himself from beaming at the compliment. "I hope it's okay with you to stay here for a bit. My shift ends in the afternoon so I'll be able to walk you back to the apartment then."

"Actually...would I be able to help?"

"To help?" Omi repeats, caught off guard by the sudden question.

"You wouldn't need to pay me or anything, but it doesn't sit right with me to take advantage of your hospitality while doing nothing in return. I've never worked in a bakery before, but I promise you that I learn quickly," she says, appearing so eager at the opportunity to assist with something that Omi doesn't think he'd ever be able to refuse her. 

"Ah, then I suppose we could use some help kneading the bread dough," Omi says. "Let me just quickly check with my coworker to make sure it's alright."

He walks to the back but before he says anything, Juza grunts an "it's fine." Omi laughs, having known that Juza rarely had a problem with things that didn't involve him. 

"Anya, wash your hands in that sink over there, and then I can start teaching you how to knead bread," Omi says. Her entire face lights up in excitement and she dutifully scrubs every inch of her hands before walking over to Omi. "First, some quick introductions. Juza, this is Anya. Anya, this is Juza."

"It's nice to meet you," Anya says genially, bowing her head. 

"Yeah," Juza says before turning back to his work.

But Anya doesn't seemed fazed at all by the curt response, only turning back towards Omi cheerfully. "What would you like me to do?"

"We should put your hair up first," Omi says, grabbing a strip of ribbon used to tie bread bags and handing it to her. 

"Right, good thinking." She takes the ribbon into her hand and begins braiding her hair back. Noticing that a few strands of hair have escaped the braid in the back, Omi steps forward and tenderly tucks them back in. He doesn't realize how close he is to her until he accidentally brushes his hand against her own as he pulls it back.

"I'm sorry," he quickly says, cheeks burning at the contact. "I should've asked before—"

"N-no, it's fine," Anya tells him as she finishes tying off the braid with the ribbon, but the stammer in her voice reveals that she's equally as flustered. "Um, shall we start then?"

"Yes," Omi says, a little too speedily to be casual. He flours the surface of an empty counter, places a good chunk of bread dough onto it, and then splits it into two pieces—one for him and one for Anya. "Will you give me your hands?"

Anya obediently holds out both of her hands. Omi scoops out the rest of the flour from the flour bag and sprinkles them on top of her palms. He demonstrates how to clap them together so that the flour spreads evenly across his hands and Anya does her best to mimic the action.

"When you knead dough, it's important to make sure that it's not sticking too much to the counter or your hands or you'll end up losing a lot of dough. Push the bread with the heel of your palm, fold it back over, turn the dough, and then repeat the process. You'll want to knead it to the point where you can poke it gently with your finger and it'll bounce back," Omi explains, showing the process with his hands.

True to her word, Anya watches intently to the point where he feels the tips of his ears flush. Having her full, undivided attention causes him to a fumble a bit but if Anya notices, she kindly doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns her focus to kneading her own section of dough, her lips forming a slight pout as she concentrates. 

Her face is framed by the few hairs that are too short to be pulled back into the braid. She blows them out of her face as she works, an action that Omi admittedly finds endearing. Both her skin and hands appear well cared for, say for the dryness that comes naturally with the cold weather. Although she's not particularly aggressive or forceful with the dough, there's a meticulousness to her actions that prove she paid close attention to Omi's lesson.

 _What if she actually is the princess?_ Taichi's words from earlier this morning echo back through his head. Omi's starting to think that Taichi may have been onto something after all. Anya hasn't revealed much about her past but from what Omi can tell, it's clear that she didn't grow up in this part of town. Her hands are free of any callouses, and while they were walking here, Omi observed that she seemed unfamiliar with the city streets. Her appearance also matches every part of the description published in the newspaper earlier this morning.

Then again, there's plenty of people who come to this part of town looking for work in the local factories. Princess (Y/N) is also well-known for being averse to the public eye, which is why coming across actual photos of her is incredibly rare. The description in the newspaper only detailed the color of her eyes, hair, and relative height, so there could be a variety of people that resemble the princess. And even if she is the princess, Omi doesn't know her reasoning for fleeing the palace, so exposing her could very well place her in danger. 

The chiming of the bells hanging above the entryway alerts him to the presence of a customer. "I'll take care of it," Omi says, washing his hands in the sink. "Just keep kneading the dough."

"Sounds good," Anya replies. Juza lets out a low hum in acknowledgment.

Having worked here for a few years now, Omi's practically memorized every in and out of the bakery, meaning that the order is taken care of quickly. When he returns to the back however, the scene that awaits him is far from what had been there when he left.

"What...happened here?"

Juza and Anya are both covered in a layer of flour. In Juza's hands lies the culprit, a ripped bag of flour whose contents have spilled out onto the floor and table. 

"The bag wouldn't open," Juza says simply. Anya purses her lips together but bursts out laughing just a few seconds later. Oddly enough, the sight of her laughing so openly makes his stomach do flips but he ignores it in favor of grabbing some rags from underneath the counter and handing them to Juza and Anya. 

"Alright, let's get this cleaned up then," Omi says nonchalantly. After all, it's not the worst disaster that's ever happened in the bakery.

With all three of them working, the mess is cleaned up just in time for the beginning of the bakery's lunch rush. As Omi's collecting all the rags and placing them in the dirty rags bin, he sees a spot of flour on Anya's forehead that hadn't been wiped off. 

"Anya, there's a bit of flour right here," Omi says, pointing to the same spot on his own forehead.

"Oh, there is?" She attempts to wipe it off but somehow just barely manages to miss its location. 

Before he can think about what he's doing, Omi steps forward, his instinctive desire to care for people already taking the reigns. "Here, I'll get it." He uses his thumb to wipe the flour from her forehead as Anya stares up at him with wide eyes. "There. It's gone now."

They stare at each other for just a beat too long, but that beat is long enough for Omi to come to his senses. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, I should've asked before touching you, I'm truly—"

"No, it's fine! I didn't mind at all..." she whispers. "Thank you."

And Omi knows logically that he doesn't know Anya at all, that he doesn't know anything about her except that she's pretty and polite and eager to help and learn and her laugh is quite frankly the most beautiful thing he's ever heard, but strangely enough, he _wants_ to know more about her. For some reason, he feels an undeniable pull towards her, a tiny desire in his chest to stay by her side.

But the desire is small enough that he brushes it away as easily as he does with the flour. 

"You're welcome," he replies softly. 

* * *

Just like he'd predicted earlier this morning, the snow's covered the ground in a three-inch blanket by the time Omi's shift ends. He and Anya make the trek back to his apartment fighting the relentless flurries that obscure their version. When they finally arrive, his cheeks are rosy and flushed, and Anya's visibly shivering even from underneath her coat.

"Sit down, I'll go and heat up a cup of milk for you," Omi says, taking her coat and hanging it next to his on the coat rack to dry. 

"I'll really spend my entire time here thanking you, but thank you." Anya giggling lightly. "Has anyone ever told you that you're a very caring person?"

"Just a few," Omi jokes. After the flour incident in the bakery, Anya seemed to have finally set down her reservations. Although he appreciated her politeness, Omi prefers her this way. She seems more relaxed. Happier really.

"Have you considered that I could potentially be dangerous?" Anya asks, her eyes twinkling. 

At this, Omi can't help but let out a scoff. "You'd be an unusually kind dangerous person for offering to knead bread at a bakery all day."

"You know, that was a rather unexpected arm workout. I expect my muscles will be sore come morning." Anya starts massaging her biceps. "I have much respect for Juza who kneaded nonstop for multiple hours."

Something in his chest pangs at the mention of Juza's name but the feeling is so foreign that Omi thinks nothing of it. "With time, I think you'll be able to become a kneading master as well."

"You only think so? Have a little more faith in me." She places her hand on her chest and lets out a mocking gasp.

Omi laughs before disappearing into the kitchen. The stove is old but warms up dutifully after a few minutes. Once he's finished heating up two mugfuls of milk, he walks back into the living room to find Anya examining one of the framed photos on the coffee table.

"Is...this your sister?" Anya asks when she hears Omi enter.

Omi sets one of the mugs down in front of Anya and nods. "Yes. I think she turns nine this year."

"She looks remarkably like you," Anya says with a soft smile. "The same color hair and kind eyes."

"Do you think so? I'm sure she'll protest if she hears you say that."

"How come? I think you're...good-looking," Anya says, rubbing the back of her neck shyly. "I mean, not in a weird way, but you have a charming quality around you, and I wouldn't mind looking like you because you're um—this makes no sense, does it? Please just forget what I said."

He chuckles and takes a sip of his mug. "No, I'm flattered. Do you have any siblings?"

Upon seeing Anya's smile drop slightly, Omi rushes to amend his mistake. "Please don't feel obligated to answer that if you're not comfortable doing so."

"Ah, don't worry. It's only natural that you'd want to know more about the person who is staying at your place for free," Anya tells him. "I have an older brother and sister but we don't really....see eye-to-eye. They can be a bit pushy when it comes down to it."

"I see. It is silly that people expect family members to agree on everything no matter the circumstances, isn't it? Even if you're blood-related, you're all different people so you're bound to have different opinions."

" _Yes_ , that's exactly it. I feel guilty for not wanting the same things they do, but I do wish they'd try to understand my side of it," Anya sighs, staring into her mug. "Do you get along well with your sister?"

"Most of the time. We had a big fight when I initially sent her to boarding school though. She didn't want to leave me, but with our parents gone, giving her an education is the best thing I can do for her." He internally braces himself for the inevitable "sorry about your parents" that he never knows how to respond to, but it doesn't come. 

Instead, Anya places her mug back onto the table and says, "I think that's really brave of you."

Omi's eyes widen in surprise. "Brave?"

"When you want to protect somebody, your natural instinct is to hold them close, even if that's not what's actually best for them. I think it's always harder to let somebody go," Anya says, tapping her fingers against her thigh thoughtfully. "You did it with her best interests in mind and I think that's really brave."

His lips part subconsciously at Anya's words. Omi can't deny that he'd doubted his decision many times, always questioning if it would've been better to keep his sister with him even though he knows logically that getting an education is her best chance at a good job. He doesn't know until that moment how much he _needed_ to hear those words. 

"I'm glad you think so," Omi says quietly. 

Anya offers him a smile and continues drinking her milk. The silence that follows isn't awkward by any means, rather a natural one that falls over them as they both ruminate on their thoughts. 

It's Anya that breaks the silence first. "Is it...expensive to get an education?"

"A little bit," Omi admits. "But I'm repaying a debt right now so I have to split the costs between the boarding school and that."

"Ah. If you don't mind me asking, what is the debt for?" Anya asks hesitantly. "It's alright if you're not comfortable with sharing."

"It's..." Omi pauses, unsure of how to word this. "I got into some trouble when I was younger and trying to make money quick. I ended up falling in with a bad bunch and in order to leave, I have to pay a certain amount of money."

He's almost afraid to see Anya's reaction after confessing this, but to his surprise, she doesn't seem perturbed at all. She only nods her head in understanding and raises the mug back up to her lips to finish off the rest of her milk. "Is it difficult to get a job around here?"

"Mm. Most of the jobs come from the factories but they're dangerous and the pay isn't that good. My job at the bakery was really more like a blessing from the universe."

"I see." She nods, but it's not directed towards Omi so much as if she's merely lost in her own thoughts. "Do you have time for any hobbies?"

"I'm a photographer," Omi says, gesturing to the camera bag that sits on top of the wooden rocking chair in the corner. "I haven't taken many photos since my sister went back to school in August though."

"Really? I love looking at photos!" Anya says, subconsciously leaning forward. "What kind of subjects do you enjoy taking pictures of the most?"

Omi's a little thrown by her enthusiasm, but he's not about to give up a chance to talk about one of his passions. "I mostly do people. Sometimes I'll do scenery but I find that there's not a lot of scenery when you're living in the middle of the city."

"Would you move somewhere else if you had the chance then?" Anya asks.

"Probably," Omi leans back in his seat and contemplates this question. "I think I'd like a place out towards the countryside. But I still think humans are a fascinating subject."

"Do you normally ask people around you if they'll model for you?"

"Sometimes. It's mostly just my sister though."

"Oh I see. I suppose it would be a daunting task though I've never modeled before so I don't think I can really say my two cents on it."

"Would you like to model for me then?" 

"Model for you?" Anya blinks, slowly processing Omi's offer. "A-ah! I don't think I'd be a good model, I'm not really, I don't usually ever have my picture taken. I've actually been told I'm very...camera conscious."

"That's fine," Omi says, already standing up and grabbing his camera bag. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there? I won't do anything you're not comfortable with but if the only thing that's stopping you is your own worries, then I can tell you right now that that's silly."

"Are you sure though? I don't want to waste your film or anything by being a bad subject."

"Don't worry, it'd be my fault as a photographer if I didn't give you proper directions." Omi winks confidently. "Do you trust me?"

Anya pretends to think about it by tapping her chin with her index finger. "I suppose I trust you as much as I can trust a man I've known for one day."

The ensuing laugh that falls from Omi's lips makes his chest feel light.

* * *

As it turns out, Anya _is_ remarkably camera conscious. Her poses are awkward and stiff and she follows each direction he gives _exactly_ , to the point where each shot feels artificial. Omi spends the first few minutes trying to coax her into relaxing into something more natural, but Anya's attempts at being natural are even worse than her original poses.

He doesn't mind though. Omi sees this as a fun challenge, something that'll really test his skills as a photographer. 

Clearly his methods so far haven't been working. The male sets his camera down and ponders how to best approach this. No matter what Omi had told her, Anya had always been too focused on the presence of the camera. Perhaps the best way to get her to ignore the camera...is to direct her attention elsewhere.

"Are you cold?" Omi asks. The snow's stopped falling some time ago but the chilly air remains. Anya shakes her head and Omi grins. "Good. Let's head to the town center then."

"The town center?"

"You'll see," Omi replies cryptically. He holds his hand out for her to take. "So you don't get lost," he explains. 

"Ah." She threads her fingers through his. Omi tries not to dwell on the feeling of her soft skin beneath his, the way her hand seems to fit so perfectly against his, or how the contact makes his heart race. 

Just before they reach the town center, Omi suddenly stops and turns around to face her, their hands still intertwined. "Can you trust me for a moment?"

"To do...?"

"That's where you'll just have to trust me. Close your eyes for me?"

Although she's a little tentative, Anya does as asked. Omi then carefully guides her to the edge of the town center and ensures that she's safely away from the main pathways before saying, "Now open them."

"I— _wow_ ," she breathes as she takes in the new scenery around her. Unlike Omi's neighborhood, the town center is far enough away from the factories that none of the factory smoke conceals the white sky. And as always, the town center has wasted no expense decorating for Christmas. Each of the streetlamps are wrapped in bountiful garlands and topped with extravagant bows. Every tree in sight has been lined with red and gold ornaments of varying shades and topped with a glistening star. Strands of Christmas lights have been strung across buildings, around windows, and just about every place that wouldn't become a fire hazard. With the addition of the freshly-fallen snow, the town center truly looks like a place out of a fairytale. 

While Anya marvels at the sights, Omi lifts his camera and begins taking pictures. It appears that his strategy's worked, since Anya seems to be too distracted by her surroundings to even remember what Omi's doing. She practically skips through the town center, absorbed in all the colors and trinkets that adorn the place. 

Omi can't pinpoint when it starts. Maybe it's when she claps her hands and giggles as she observes a toy train chug along its miniature tracks. Maybe it's when she stands and twirls around in front of the huge Christmas tree set up in the middle of the Town Square purely due to happiness. Maybe it's when she glances over at Omi and sends him such a dazzling smile that he nearly drops his camera. But that desire from before, the urge to be by her side and learn everything about her, begins to grow until all she has to do is call his name for his heart to skip a beat. 

"Yes?" Omi says in response, lowering the camera. 

He never sees it coming. Anya raises up her hand and by the time he registers the snowball in her hand, it's too late. The snowball hits him right on the arm causing Anya to laugh triumphantly. 

"Oh, I see how we're doing this." Omi quickly places his camera back into his bag and scoops a handful of snow off of the ground. The snow stings his gloveless hands but it's a fleeting pain. He packs it into a shapely snowball and launches it right back at Anya who desperately tries to dodge but fails. 

She yelps as the snowball lands on her shoulder. But just as she reaches down to grab more snow, a trumpeting noise rings out across the square.

"An announcement from the Royal Palace," a town crier yells from atop a podium. "Anybody with information about the missing princess should come forward—"

Before Omi can hear anything else, Anya runs towards him and grabs his hand, panic written all over her visage. "Omi, we need to leave."

"To leave?" He's surprised by her abrupt change in demeanor. "Back to my apartment?"

"Please," she whispers, glancing back and forth between him and the town crier. "I promise I'll explain everything back there. We just need to go."

"Okay." He has a million questions racing through his head, but Anya's frantic enough that he doesn't ask. "Let's go."

He grabs Anya's wrist and leads her back to the apartment as quickly as he can, navigating through the swarm of people that congregate towards the square to hear the town crier's message. 

They arrive at the apartment sweaty and exhausted. Anya collapses onto the couch right after removing her shoes, her head in her hands.

"Is everything alright?" Omi asks softly, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands into his. He runs soothing circles with his thumbs across the back of her hands and stares into her eyes.

"I'm not..." She bites her lip, breaking eye contact with him to stare at her feet instead. "My name isn't Anya. It's—"

"Princess (Y/N)?" Omi guesses. 

She looks back up at him, startled. "Y-yes. Was it that obvious?"

"I think it was only obvious because I suspected it for a while," Omi says. 

"Oh." 

It's quiet for a moment until Omi asks the biggest question that's been weighing on him. "Why are you running from the palace?"

"My parents, the King and Queen, believe it's time for me to enter an arranged marriage." _To Duke Furuichi Sakyo_ , Omi's mind recalls from the newspaper in the morning. Something in Omi's chest tightens at the thought. "I don't wish to be wedded to a man I do not know, and definitely not to a man I do not love. But as always, my opinion has been disregarded in the matter. I guess I just wanted...a brief escape. To pretend like there wasn't somebody else dictating my entire life for me, even if it was just for a short while."

 _Just for a short while?_ The gears in Omi's mind start turning rapidly. "Does that mean you'll go back to the palace?"

"I have to." She manages a weak smile. "And even if I'll be forced into an engagement, I still want to perform my duty towards this country, but...thank you."

"You want to thank me?"

"Well I mean, you took me in, gave me food, and took care of me, even when you weren't really sure who I was." She laughs softly. "But even more than that, you cared about what I wanted. And I guess it sounds a little silly now that I'm saying it out loud, but it was really nice to have someone who was actually listening to me. So...thank you."

"I should be telling you thank you as well," Omi whispers. "You listened to me too, didn't you? It's...been a while since I've been able to open up to somebody new. I suppose we both have things we're grateful to each other for."

"I suppose," Anya—no, _Princess_ _(Y/N)_ says. 

Something in the air changes as they stare into each other's eyes. Omi's well aware of how close they've become to each other as they were speaking, well aware of how he still holds her hands in his. And though there's a voice in the back of his mind that tells him that Princess (Y/N) is hopelessly out of his reach and that their very upbringings are incompatible, Omi brushes it aside.

Because the person he sees in front of him is the girl who refuses to accept help without offering something in return, who laughs even when covered in flour, and who gazes at Christmas lights like she's still in love with the world. 

And maybe love is too strong of a word to describe the emotion he feels for her right now (they've only known each other for a day after all), but the pull he feels towards her has grown too strong to resist anymore. Maybe this isn't love, but he knows it could be.

It's why he gently releases her hands and cups her cheeks instead. "May I kiss you?" His voice is quiet. Uncertain really. He doesn't know if she reciprocates any of his feelings or if it's all been one-sided this entire time. 

Luckily, he doesn't have to wait long for an answer. Princess (Y/N) doesn't give him a verbal reply, just leans in to press her own lips against his.

Omi's never been a believer in the wild romance stories that fill fairy tales, but there's something magical in the kiss the two of them share. Her lips are soft, plush and pliant beneath his own, but more than that, the entire kiss makes his body feel warm and tingly and he swears that his heart might thrum out of his chest at this rate. His brain's gone fuzzy, consumed by the desire to hold her against his chest and never let go. 

To be honest, it's embarrassing how much this kiss affects him. But nothing in his life has ever felt so _right_. Nobody has ever made him feel as complete as she does. 

When they break apart, he can't tell if they kissed for a few seconds or a hundred years. There's a tenderness to Princess (Y/N)'s expression that makes his heart pang. The moment she speaks again, he thinks his heart has shattered completely. "I'll have to leave soon."

"I know." He does know. She's the princess after all, and Omi is merely the photographer who was lucky enough to be blessed with her presence even if it was just for one magical day. 

She runs her fingers through his hair, and he closes eyes to bask in her touch. "But I want to stay."

"You can't," he says, even though he wants her to stay as well. 

"I can't," she recites hollowly. "I need to go back to the palace. There are people who need me there. I can't let them down."

 _But Omi wants her here_. However, that's a thought he doesn't dare to voice out loud. He can tell how much she's struggling with herself, an internal battle between her own personal desires and her obligation towards her country. He shouldn't complicate things any further. "You'll never let them down, Princess (Y/N)."

"Just (Y/N). Just call me (Y/N). I don't...I don't want you to use formalities with me."

"(Y/N)," he calls. He tilts her chin up and forces her to look him in the eyes. "A person who listens to other people because they genuinely want to hear what they say is somebody who cares. I know you won't let them down."

"Thank you." She smiles and he wants to etch the image into his mind forever. 

"You're welcome." 

His words are bittersweet because they both know they're saying goodbye. 

* * *

"If you sold these photos to the press, you could make a lot of money. Probably enough to pay off your debt and then another year for your sister's boarding school," Taichi says as Omi rifles through the collection of pictures that he'd just collected from the print shop that morning. They're both seated on the bench outside of Omi's apartment building. The early morning cold nips at Omi's ears and nose but he barely pays it any attention, too distracted by everything else weighing on his mind.

"Yeah." There's no conviction in Omi's voice though. 

"Enough to move out of this place," Taichi continues. "Finally move to the countryside or something, a place where you aren't smothered in factory smoke all day."

"Mm." He's not even comprehending Taichi's words right now, occupied instead with the memory of (Y/N)'s lips against his own. 

"But you wouldn't."

Omi finally snaps out of his trance. "I...wouldn't?"

"I know you," Taichi says matter-of-factly, waving his finger at Omi. "And once you find somebody you care about, you're loyal to them almost to a fault. You said she's very private, right? You wouldn't betray the Princess's trust by selling her photographs to the press. Besides, anybody can tell that you're a lovesick fool. A man can't make solid financial decisions if it means betraying the woman you love."

"She's...I don't..." Omi stammers to correct him, but he isn't sure how.

"You're right, you don't love her right _now_. But I wouldn't be your friend if I couldn't tell what you're feeling right now. It's not love right now because you've only known her for what, a little over a day? But a flower that hasn't bloomed is still a flower. It's love, even if it hasn't quite achieved its full potential yet," Taichi announces.

Omi sets the photographs down in his lap and stares at Taichi with his eyebrows furrowed. "Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"

"Hey, I can say wise things sometimes!" Taichi protests. "But still...are you okay with her just leaving like this?"

"I have to be," Omi says, but it's more to convince himself than anything. He runs his thumb over the first photograph in his lap, his personal favorite. (Y/N) is looking away from the camera, the sides of her features set aglow by the twinkling Christmas lights. She stares up at them in adoration and Omi wonders what would've happened if she'd glanced his way in that moment, if she would've noticed that he was looking at her the same way. "I should get going though. I want to see her off before she goes back to the palace."

"Alright, good luck Omi. And if you need anything, remember that I'm here for you, 'kay?" 

"Thanks Taichi." Omi stands up and dusts himself off. "I'll head off now."

He arrives at the apartment just as she's about to leave, having just finished pulling on her shoes. She glances up in surprise at the sudden noise but her features instantly warm upon seeing him. "Hey," she says softly.

"Hey," he says. "Do you...need me to walk you to the main road? The neighborhood has a lot of confusing roads and I wouldn't want you to—"

She cuts him off before he begins rambling any further. "That'd be wonderful."

Omi leads her to a road that's safe but still fairly devoid of people. She has her hood up and considering how little people have actually seen (Y/N)'s face, Omi trusts that she'll be able to make the one hour walk from here to the palace safely. But even so, he dwindles before letting her go off on your own. "I..."

Before he can say anything else, she's standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. "Thank you."

He places his hand on the spot she's just kissed and feels the heat rush to both his hand and face. "You're welcome. But before you go, I actually have something for you."

"Hm?" She looks up at him with curious eyes and Omi reaches into his pocket to pull out the printed photographs.

"Here. I already have them saved on my camera and I thought you might want to see how they turned out so I went and got them printed earlier this morning."

"Oh," she says almost breathlessly. "Omi, I really don't even know what to say. You woke up that early just to print these pictures for me?"

"Well, I couldn't allow you to leave thinking that I was a bad photographer," Omi jokes in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

He's rewarded with the sound of her laugh, and before he realizes what's happening, (Y/N)'s wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "You must think that I only have one phrase in my vocabulary at this point but _thank you_ ," she says, her voice slightly muffled by the fabric of his coat.

Omi wraps his own arms around her waist in return and the two of them stay like that for a while, both unwilling to let each go. It's only until Omi sees white snowflakes fall down onto the top of her head that he says, "You should go."

"I know."

But she doesn't let go. He strokes her head gently and allows himself to inhale her scent for the last time. "Stay safe, okay? Don't go on any more grand escapes if I'm not there to help you. And if you need somebody to listen to you, just shout my name, okay?"

"What, and you'll come running? How would you even hear?" she asks, a small giggle escaping her lips. He can feel the vibrations her voice makes against his chest and he convinces himself that that's the reason why there's a fluttering inside his ribcage.

"Because I'm always listening for you." It's cheesy and he knows it. But he's about to let go of the girl that could've been the love of his life as clumps of snowflakes cascade down and maybe he deserves to be cheesy. 

"I'll listen for you too." It's not an "I love you," but it is a promise. 

Maybe that's all they need.

* * *

 **THE MANKAI TIMES**  
— _Dated December 24th, XXXX. Price: One Bronze Coin._

_**PRINCESS (Y/N) CALLS OFF ENGAGEMENT AND TURNS ATTENTION TOWARDS EDUCATION REFORM** _   
_Princess (Y/N), the youngest of the Royal Family of Mankai, has officially called off her engagement to Duke Furuichi Sakyo. According to official sources from the Royal Family, the princess announced that her capabilities would benefit the Royal Family far more than an arranged marriage could ever. The princess supposedly refused to return to her royal duties if she was going to be forced to marry the Duke, adding that the wedding would be a hindrance in her plans to improve the country._

_The princess has also begun plans to make education a basic right in the Kingdom of Mankai, saying that all people should have equal access to opportunity. Some members of nobility have criticized the princess for her mysterious disappearance, but it appears that the princess has never been more proactive with her royal duties than she is now. No information was obtained about where the princess was during her disappearance._

* * *

**EPILOGUE: ONE YEAR LATER ON CHRISTMAS DAY**

"Omi! Come down here, we have presents to open!" yells Omi's sister excitedly as she practically flies down the banister.

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets in shock and he hurries after her. "Don't slide down the bannister! Use the stairs and don't run!"

A laugh draws his attention and he turns around to see (Y/N) watching the entire interaction with an amused smile on her face. "She's quite the ball of energy, isn't she?"

Omi sighs. "She's only gotten this bad because you egg her on."

(Y/N) lets out a mock gasp and places her hand across her sternum. She walks down the steps until she's standing directly in front of him. "Accusing _the_ Princess (Y/N) (L/N) of the Kingdom of Mankai of being a bad influence? I'll have you know that just because I believe myself to be a charitable royal princess doesn't mean I _don't_ have the power of execution."

He rolls his eyes playfully and places a featherlight kiss on her forehead. "Is that so? You've been such a good influence that you _haven't_ slid down the bannister?"

"Well, I never said _that_."

Omi shakes his head and pulls her into an embrace, savoring the way her body feels against his own. "You know, last year, I thought that would be the last time I would ever hug you like this."

"You have a lot of thoughts, Omi. Sometimes they're wrong." (Y/N) grins cheekily.

"Hmm, I think they're only wrong because _somebody_ is so determined to get what she wants," Omi says. "Who else would force her family to call off her arranged marriage, dedicate her time to education reform, pay off her future boyfriend's debt, and then show up at his bakery a few days later just to tell him that she's moving away from the palace to a villa in the countryside and he's free to visit whenever he wants?"

"It's only fair. You gave me a place to stay when I needed one so I gave you one in return. Plus you said you wanted somewhere with scenery, didn't you?" (Y/N) gestures to one of the villa's many windows. "I do believe I'm the perfect gift giver."

"I think your title will be challenged once we actually open the presents downstairs."

"It's funny you think you can beat whatever I gave your sister."

"Oh my gosh, a tulle dress!" squeals Omi's sister from downstairs. "Thank you so much, (Y/N)!"

(Y/N) grins smugly. "But enough of that. It's our first Christmas together so we should hurry down and take pictures."

"Isn't this our second one though?"

"Last year doesn't count." She juts out her lower lip and pouts. "Last year I only showed up at your bakery after dinnertime and I was too busy explaining how I broke off the engagement and paid off your debt to be spending quality time together."

"So this is our first official Christmas together?" he teases, lightly tapping her nose with his finger.

"Yup. Merry Christmas, Omi," she says, quickly leaning in to peck him on the lips. "I love you."

"Merry Christmas, (Y/N)," he murmurs. "I love you too."

The two of them then hurry down before Omi's sister unwraps all of the presents without them. They rush past the various pictures hanging on the walls, all of which had been taken by Omi, until the two of them can finally begin opening their own presents.

And (Y/N) relinquishes her title as the best gift giver when she carefully tears open Omi's present to her, finds a diamond ring, and looks up to see Omi on one knee, asking perhaps the most important question he ever has in his life. 

(She says yes.) 

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's vic and this is cross-posted from my quotev account!


End file.
